


Together into the Sunset (or Sunday afternoon in Hanzo's lap)

by TomyrisDarkwarden



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomyrisDarkwarden/pseuds/TomyrisDarkwarden
Summary: Description: McCree had carved his space out in a storage loft above the training room. Hanzo had, of course, moved into the space even before he and McCree had begun sharing quarters, not long after they had gotten together.A Sunday afternoon and McCree had climbed the ladder to find Hanzo sprawled across the couch like some ancient god-king, a book in his hand.A “McCree in Hanzo’s lap” fic.





	Together into the Sunset (or Sunday afternoon in Hanzo's lap)

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta give tinyforestshark and Kerfufflewatch on Tumblr all the credit for making me think McCree in Hanzo’s lap was a thing that I needed to write and then I couldn’t not. Seriously.

Given the size of dorm rooms and the number of agents of the recalled Overwatch it wasn’t uncommon for said agents to carve out a little space for themselves in one of Watchpoint Gibraltar's nooks and crannies.  
D.Va had found a closet off the mess she used to stream. Lucio had commandeered another closet for a recording space. Neither Mercy nor Torbjorn seemed to use their bunks at all, being found at any and all hours in their office or workshop respectively.  
McCree had carved his space out in a storage loft above the training room. A beat up, comfy leather couch surrounded by a number of bookshelves flooded with cheap paperbacks of every genre he could get his hands on now that he had time and space to read.  
Hanzo had, of course, moved into the space even before he and McCree had begun sharing quarters, not long after they had gotten together adding art, lighting, his own books, and a truly absurd number of throw pillows.  
A Sunday afternoon and McCree had climbed the ladder to find Hanzo sprawled across the couch like some ancient god-king, a book in his hand, a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him, and that vaguely bored expression that was so much a part of his persona that it belied the intense focus McCree could just make out in his eyes.  
A wicked idea came to him.  
McCree slipped his boots off and climbed the ladder quietly, but not so quietly that it would sound like stealth to Hanzo’s justifiably paranoid ears. He padded over to the couch, straddled Hanzo’s legs and slipped into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and clamping his teeth immediately onto Hanzo’s earlobe.  
“Jesse, what do you think you are doing?”  
McCree's ears were good enough, (and he knew Hanzo well enough) to hear the hitch of breath and vague amusement under the layer of false irritation in his voice.  
“Don’t mind me, darlin'. Just gettin' some sugars.”  
He could feel the shudder in Hanzo’s chest and it gave him a heady feeling of power.  
“Jesse, I am busy and you are heavy.”  
It was always amazing how Hanzo could drain that feeling of power out of McCree and replace it with a shameless want, turning the power dynamic on its head with just his fingers in McCree's hair and a feigned disinterest as he continued to give his full attention to the book.  
It was a game they tried not to play in public. A game McCree was addicted to. The push and pull of power, each move ramping up his desire exponentially.  
Two hickies sucked onto Hanzo’s collarbone and McCree was two seconds away from shoving his hand down the front of Hanzo’s sweatpants (public space be damned) when he heard the distinct snap of a book being closed.  
“Jesse you are too old for this…. And you are heavy.”  
There was absolutely no threat in Hanzo’s rebuke. It was a token protest at best, and the repeated mention of McCree’s weight, (which bothered him not at all. He knew he was not a small man, a fact he knew Hanzo not so secretly adored) only underscored how far gone Hanzo truly was.  
“I trust you can throw me, Sweetness.”  
Hanzo growled and it sent a delicious shudder through McCree. He slammed the book haphazardly onto the table next to the forgotten tea, and kissed McCree like a man starved.  
“Room. Bed. Now.”  
Jesse grinned ear to ear. He had won this round.  
Jesse moved off his lover and motioned for him to descend the ladder first in order to give Hanzo a good view of his ass as he climbed down after.  
Let it never be said that Jesse McCree was anything but generous in victory.  
As McCree turned, though, he caught a glimps of the book Hanzo had been reading.  
“Are you coming down or not?” Hanzo growled from the first floor.  
Jesse's grin was positively shit-eating as he leaned over the ladder and held up the book.  
“Really, darlin'? Together into the Sunset? A cowboy romance?”  
Hanzo’s face was very suddenly bright red.  
“I am going to our room, Jesse McCree. Whether or not you join me will be determined by your next sentence.”  
Jesse looked around the loft and the strange mix of Japanese and Southwest décor that both clashed and meshed in the most surreal way. He stopped to throw the book back on the table and chase after his lover when another wicked thought occurred to him.  
“That ain’t my book….”


End file.
